


flying

by aukibs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa, miroh au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aukibs/pseuds/aukibs
Summary: Chan manages to convince a young law-enforcement officer (who just so happens to look exactly like somebody he used to know) to help him take down City Jungle Hall.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	flying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nervecore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervecore/gifts).



> For @miroh_mv on twitter! I hope you like it <3
> 
> special thanks to mari for reading this over for me

City Jungle Hall is a magnificent building. An architectural masterpiece, if you would. With its tall Roman columns and the graceful sculptures carved into the walls, it reminds Chan of the temples from his childhood.

But unlike those temples, it’s also absolutely massive - about a hundred metres in height and width and over a hundred-fifty in height, it’s easily one of the largest buildings in City Jungle.

And there was also the fact that what went on inside was anything but holy.

The gates are closed at night, and Chan isn’t stupid enough to attempt going in through the front. There’s no use in attracting unnecessary attention from the dozens of armed guards bound to be stationed at the gates. The plan is simple - get in, plant the bombs, get out, detonate the bombs remotely, and enjoy the chaos.

But he also isn’t stupid enough to think that it’s going to be as simple as intended. Of course - a plan is just a plan, and plans are meant to be deviated from when the situation calls for it.

It’s obvious that City Jungle Hall is actually a fortress disguised as a town hall. It’s absolutely prowling with guards - both regular security and regime officers - and every inch of it is monitored by security cameras. Breaking in won’t be an easy job. Even getting through the exterior is a near-impossible feat - the walls only come up fifty metres, and that’s already too much for Chan to consider scaling them.

It’s a good thing he has friends in higher places, Chan muses as he stares down into City Jungle Hall from his perch on a neighbouring residential building.

His earpiece crackles to life, and he tightens his grip on the ledge.

“Hello, CB97, isn’t it a pleasant evening? Twenty degrees celsius, with a fair scattering of clouds in the sky. Fortunately, we’re dealing with a new moon tonight, so you won’t have to worry about the moonlight giving you away, only City Jungle Hall’s obnoxious lighting choices.”

Chan laughs quietly. “It does look rather irritating tonight.” The exterior wall’s LEDs are currently looping propaganda posters and phrases. _LOYALTY TO THE REGIME IS A VIRTUE OF A GOOD CITIZEN_. Chan scoffs.

“Anywho, it’s about time you get your ass down there planting bombs and whatnot. I’ll loop the footage, so if you could just hoppity-hop over to that exterior wall over there, we can get started.”

“You make this sound way more fun than it is, MIROH,” Chan says as he tightens the straps on his gloves and stands, taking a good look at the city below his feet and reminding himself why he’s doing this.

“It’s the only fun you’re going to have for the next while, CB97. It wouldn’t kill you to be a little grateful.”

Chan rolls his eyes at the attitude. He doesn’t _really_ know anything about MIROH, but he’s almost positive that they’re younger than him. Chan knows that MIROH is more than capable of masking their voice - being the genius that they are - but he has a feeling that the voice in his ears is their real voice anyways, which would make MIROH a teenage boy.

“Looping the footage?” he asks.

“Yep, any second now,” MIROH says. Chan hears some emphatic typing before MIROH lets out a delighted laugh, “Alright. On my signal. Ready?”

“Yes,” Chan says, pulling out his grapple gun and pointing it about forty-five degrees into the air.

“It’s always a pleasure working with you, CB97,” MIROH says, as he always does. And then - “Let’s get it.”

Chan shoots the gun, and waits until the grapple hits the building on the other side of City Jungle Hall before pressing a button, making the line go taut.

“Now or never,” he whispers, and squats before jumping into the air, holding onto the grapple gun for dear life as he swings down towards City Jungle Hall.

Chan passes over the inner courtyard of City Jungle Hall, and winces at the sheer amount of guards patrolling the perimeter. If he’d gone in any other way, and on any other day, he’d have surely been spotted.

As he approaches the roof, he disengages the grapple and curls up into a ball, hands over his head, as he tumbles onto the roof.

It’s a hard fall, but this was somehow the least painful way to get in. Chan digs his heels into the ground, and he almost smashes his head onto the ground as he comes to a complete stop.

His arms and legs are buzzing in pain as he pulls himself up.

“You good, CB97?” MIROH asks, “Your biometrics aren’t looking too good.”

No shit. It feels like he’s just broken every bone in his right leg, but Chan lets out a heavy sigh and stills himself. It takes a good thirty seconds for him to be able to speak again.

“You know better than to worry about my biometrics, MIROH.”

MIROH scoffs, “ _Worried_? I’m not your mother, CB97. I’m just making sure my operative doesn’t _die_ while completing his mission.”

Chan chuckles to himself. MIROH can pretend all they want that they don’t care - Chan knows they do. “Sure. Your… 'concern' about my ability to complete the mission would be warranted if I were anyone else. Give me a minute and I’ll be good as new.”

It’s true. The stabbing pain in his limbs has already faded to a dull ache. Chan can hear MIROH snort over the line.

“And… give it another fifteen seconds… yep, good as new. I almost hate working with you sometimes.”

“I know, isn’t it annoying when your operatives get better immediately instead of _dying_?”

“Shut up,” MIROH says, “Alright, seeing as you’re giving me attitude, I guess you’re good to go. There’s a door on the roof. It should be unguarded and unlocked. Go down the stairs, and at some point you should find a vent, and I’ll guide you from there.”

Chan bites his lip, resisting the urge to say _I know_. He doesn’t understand why MIROH insists on repeating their instructions during the mission even though they’ve already briefed him on it about a thousand times.

He makes his way over to the one door on the roof, and twists the knob open.

The staircase is brightly lit, and Chan closes the door quietly behind him before making his way down, concentrating on keeping his footsteps light.

He finds a vent opening, and is about to pull the lid off and squeeze in when he hears voices.

“...not sure why we have to go up. Don’t they have cameras up there? I swear Officer Jung just looks for reasons to get rid of us.”

Chan freezes. There’s something awfully familiar about this person’s voice.

“Whatever. I’m glad to be rid of him anyways. He’s just an annoying asshole anyways. Let’s take our time. What do you wanna bet it was just a bird or something?”

“Bet,” the first voice says, and it almost sends Chan into a flashback before MIROH buzzes in his ear again.

“Take them out,” they say seriously. Chan unsheathes his sword from his utility belt and practically runs down the stairs.

It’s two guards - because who else would it be? - and they’re wearing blood-red uniforms.

City Jungle Police.

Chan doesn’t give them time to be shocked before he slams one of their heads with the flat of his sword, making him collapse and slams the other against the wall.

The man - no, the boy - stares at him, eyes wide. But in a split second, his expression changes, and then he’s shoving Chan off, backing him up the stairs as he pulls his own sword out.

He lunges forward with his sword, but Chan dodges, jumping over him to the landing.

“What do you want?” the boy asks, pointing his sword at Chan, his face twisted in accusation and curiosity.

Chan’s about to toss back a reply when he notices the boy’s face. “Jisung?” he asks, disbelieving. 

“Who?” the boy spits back. But it’s him, no doubt - he looks exactly the same as he had back in District 9, and his voice is exactly the same, if a little deeper.

But there’s no way Jisung wouldn’t recognize him. And there’s also no way Jisung would join something as insufferable and destructive as the City Jungle Police Force.

“Who are you?” Chan asks. 

Fake-Jisung stares at him. “Why the hell should I tell you? We’re in the middle of a battle here.”

“What are you doing?” MIROH says in his ear, “Who is this guy?”

“This isn’t a battle. It’s a skirmish at most,” Chan says. Fake Jisung rolls his eyes, and then he’s flying down the stairs towards Chan. There’s the sharp clang of metal as metal as their swords clash, and then Chan’s ducking, darting forward and trying to sweep Fake-Jisung off his feet. 

Fake-Jisung swerves, then there’s a _wham_ as the flat of his blade hits Chan’s back. His chest collides with the ground, and he’s left breathless for a good second.

“Get up,” MIROH orders, and Chan just barely manages to get out of the way before there’s a sword embedded in the ground where he was moments ago.

Chan’s getting rather fed-up with this guy. He doesn’t have to restrain himself just because his opponent somehow has the same face as his old friend.

In a single motion, he slaps the sword out of Fake-Jisung’s grip and backs him into the wall, pressing his sword against his neck and restraining his arms with the other hand.

“Now I’m going to ask you _again_. Who are you?”

Fake-Jisung glares up at him. Chan presses his blade harder. Fake-Jisung’s eyes swirl with fear and hatred as he spit out, “Han. Junior Officer of the City Jungle Police Force.”

“Were you born here?”

“No.”

“Where were you born?”

“I don’t know.”

“He thinks he’s being brave, giving you attitude when your sword is about two millimetres away from ending him permanently,” MIROH muses in his ears.

Chan ignores him. “What do you mean, ‘ _I don’t know_ ’?”

“I don’t remember anything, okay? I don’t remember anything before the last month. All I know is that I woke up here one day and apparently now I’m a junior officer of the CJPD. What’s your deal? Why do you care?”

Chan stares at him. “You don’t remember anything?”

“No! I literally _just_ said that, asshole.”

“Well this is interesting,” MIROH murmurs, “You knew him from before?”

“Yes,” Chan mutters.

“In District 9?”

“Yes,” Chan says again. ‘Han’ looks at him like he’s gone crazy. Well. It probably looks like he has, repeating ‘yes’ to himself like a psychopath.

But then something registers in fake-Jisung’s eyes. Chan almost thinks he’s regained his memories, but instead, he says -

“You’re a rebel!”

Chan looks down at him blankly. Was that his grand discovery? “Yes.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks. He looks… excited?

“Why would I tell you, junior officer of the CJPD?”

“Because I _hate_ the regime! Are you going to assassinate the mayor? Can I help?”

Chan almost can’t believe his ears. He’s never heard someone so blatantly declare their hatred for the regime before, and he’s literally part of the rebellion.

But go figure that, even after losing his memories and being forced into the police force, Jisung would still be the same authority-hating punk.

“Since you seem to know this guy, I’ll leave this to your judgement,” Miroh murmurs.

He should say no. He should knock fake-Jisung out and leave him here with his comrade. But Jisung's lack of memories is suspicious and unsettling - why did the regime wipe him? It's worth investigating, Chan decides. Plus, he owes Jisung. Even if he doesn't remember him, Chan can't just leave him here in good conscience.

So Chan steps back, sheathing his sword.

“Okay. But be quiet.”

“I know all about that!” Jisung says brightly, and then slaps a hand over his mouth and giggles, “Sorry!”

His change in demeanour is a little disturbing, to be honest, but Chan’s long since given up on psychoanalyzing people. He picks up Jisung’s sword and hands it to him.

“We’re blowing up City Jungle Hall.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Shit.”

“If you show any signs of betrayal, I won’t hesitate,” Chan says, lifting his glove to show Jisung the electricity crackling in his open palm.

Jisung stares at his hand, and then looks Chan in the face. “Understood,” he says, seriously, “But I swear I won’t. I fucking _hate_ the regime. I want to blow this place up just as much as you do, er… who are you again?”

Chan stares at him. He _really_ doesn’t recognize Chan. There’s an honest ignorance in his eyes that stabs Chan right in the chest. It’s okay. He’s okay.

“You can call me CB97,” Chan says. He pries the vent cover off and climbs inside, only pausing to glance back at Jisung. “You coming?”

The base of the rebellion is a busy place. At any given point in time, there are members of the rebellion hanging around the benches, chatting to each other or taking naps. It’s an interesting atmosphere - cheerful comradery with the unceasing undercurrent of seriousness and grim determination to bring down the regime.

Nevertheless, it’s home. What was once a scattering of people has transformed into an army. Chan’s starting to think they need to move out of the old subway station into somewhere bigger, but there’s no point going through the effort of relocating when the base is still perfectly functional.

Plus, it’s sort of nice to wake up to such an environment. It reminds Chan what he’s fighting for.

“You don’t even know what we’re fighting for!”

Never mind. Chan’s going to relocate to the old shopping centre and tell everyone _except_ Seungmin and Changbin.

With a sigh, he begins to make his way across the crowded hall, smiling and returning the shouted greetings as he receives them.

He’s almost made it to the arguing pair when a hand wraps around his wrist.

“Give it a second, I’m waiting for Kim to start ragging on him about how little he knows about the _real_ City Jungle.”

Chan can’t help the laugh that bubbles up as he shakes the other man’s hand off. “Come on, Lee Know, I need to break this up.”

“Do you really?” Jisung pops up from behind the spy, “It’s good entertainment.”

He gestures towards the crowd gathered around the pair, all watching with amusement as they traded jabs.

“I can’t let my co-leader humiliate himself like this… Wait, since when are you two friends?”

Lee Know rolls his eyes. “We’re not friends. I’m just giving your little police officer some advice on not blowing his cover. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long without being found out.”

“Hey!” Jisung says, trying to sound annoyed, but Chan can tell that he’s genuinely amused by Lee Know’s antics, “Don’t listen to him, Chan. He’s, like, my best friend _ever_.”

“I don’t have friends,” Lee Know tells him coolly.

“Wrong! You have me!” Jisung wraps a hand around his arm and gives Lee Know one of his dazzling grins.

A little _something_ wiggles in Chan’s heart, but he squashes it. Jisung will be a good influence on Lee Know - maybe the spy will learn to lighten up a little, and maybe Jisung will learn a little more about spying. He refuses to let his mind think further.

Chan smiles blandly at them, and he’s about to set off and separate Seungmin and Changbin when Jisung grabs his shoulder.

“Chan! Will you have breakfast with me?”

Chan gets lost in his sparkling eyes for a second before snapping himself out of it.

“Oh...? Of course, Jisung.”

“Really? Okay, I’ll see you after, then? In the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jisung beams at him. “Okay, then!”

Chan smiles back, unable to help himself. He can see Lee Know rolling his eyes in the edge of his vision before he turns and makes his way over to where Changbin is arguing with the mayor’s son.

“-posh mollusks who don’t know anything about what it’s really like to survive!”

“Not everyone was born a sob story!”

Chan grabs Changbin’s collar and drags him back.

“What’s going on here?”

Changbin looks up at him. Chan has never really reprimanded him - they’re only two years apart, and they’ve always considered each other equals. It’s only this that stops Chan from telling him off the way he would if he were dealing with Felix or Hyunjin.

In the corner of his eye, he can see the crowd dispersing.

“I… I just can’t stand that guy,” Changbin says, glaring at the ground. He doesn’t meet his eyes, but Chan can still sense the shame rolling off him in waves.

“Calm down. It’s nothing - just try not to do it in front of an audience next time. Please.”

Changbin doesn’t say anything, but he gives Chan a miniscule nod, and Chan releases him. His co-leader straightens his back and breaks through the crowd, probably making his way over to the control room.

With that dealt with, Chan turns his attention to Seungmin, who glares right back at him with a challenge written on his face.

“Kim Seungmin,” Chan says, “Regardless of what you… think of Seo Changbin, he is still one of the leaders of this operation, and it would be prudent of you to treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Seungmin purses his lips, and then huffs, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Those two are going to be the death of him, he swears.

With that dealt with, Chan makes his way over to the cafeteria. He spots Jisung hunched over a table with two trays and offers him a wave. The other boy lights up, immediately straightening. Chan slides into the seat next to him.

“What's up, Jisung?"

Jisung smiles and says, "I'm remembering things again."

"Oh?"

"Just flashes... at the... at the District 9 facility, we were friends, weren't we?"

Chan bites his lip. He wouldn't say they were _friends_ , per se, but he wouldn't say he was really friends with anyone back in District 9.

But Jisung was definitely not just the average fellow inmate. They'd sneaked each other food, had silent conversations through the bars of the cells, lied for each other when the time came. They'd never talked to each other, no - _subjects_ weren't permitted to talk to one another, but Jisung rambled so much at the guards that Chan wouldn't be able to forget his voice if he had tried.

"In a way, yeah," is what Chan settles on, "I mean, you can't really _have_ friends at District 9, but... yeah, we helped each other out."

Jisung hums and pushes his food around. "I just remember staring at you a lot-"

Chan nearly chokes on his food, but manages to clear his throat. Jisung looks at him concernedly, but he gestures for him to continue, blinking back his watery eyes.

"Uh... yeah, that, and I also remember just being stressed like, all the time, but that's it."

"Well, you're honestly better off not remembering, if I'm being honest," Chan says. He sets his chopsticks down. "District 9 was a pretty horrible place."

"Ah," Jisung lowers his eyes. But then he looks up again, meeting Chan's eyes, "But I just wanted to say thank you. Because I know you helped me, somehow."

Jisung's cheeks are a little pink. Chan has to resist the urge to reach out and poke them, because _no Chan, that's not something people do to their friends, no matter how soft their cheeks look_.

Chan smiles at that, "You helped me, too, so don't worry about it, Ji. Just enjoy your food."

Jisung picks up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and places it on Chan's tray. "I ate a little at the station before coming here, so I'm not that hungry."

Chan has a feeling he's lying, but decides to let him get away with it just this once. "Thanks, Jisung."

It’s a beautiful morning. The birds are chirping brightly, the sun is shining, and City Jungle is quiet and calm for the first time in years.

And as per usual, Chan can’t sleep. He sighs, staring down at the city from where he’s perched on a residential building. Some things never change.

But some things do. The ruins of City Jungle Hall below his feet can attest to that. The flickering remains of the exterior halls have been half-painted over with blue paint can attest to that. The empty streets, free of soldiers and AROs, can attest to that.

The sun peeks out from between the high-rises. The sunlight slowly makes its way over to Chan, and he shivers as the sunlight slowly ghosts over skin.

“I’m surprised you’re out here at this hour.”

Chan doesn’t flinch, but he can’t help his smile as he turns to face the owner of the voice.

Jisung smiles as he approaches. “Don’t fall off,” he says, swinging his legs over the ledge.

His hair is ruffled, and Chan has to restrain the urge to sift his hands through it and flatten it. He isn’t used to Jisung looking like this - sleep-ruffled, all soft and warm. Jisung wraps his hands around Chan’s arm and puts his head on his shoulder.

“It’s a nice morning,” he murmurs, “As it should be.”

Chan hums, and he carefully wraps an arm around Jisung’s waist. “You’re still in your uniform?”

Jisung scoffs into his shoulder, “Chan, the battle ended _just_ yesterday. You can’t expect me to already be out of these clothes. I’ll have you know I fell asleep like this.”

Chan laughs. “I dunno. You don’t see _me_ in gear, do you?”

Jisung whines. “You actually own other clothes! I don’t even have that much. Don’t be mean. You don’t know what it’s like having your mind wiped all the time.”

Chan smiles. “You’re right, I don’t. But I thought you remembered everything now?”

“You know, I’m going to go if you keep bullying me like this,” Jisung says, but with the way he burrows himself into Chan’s side, Chan’s pretty sure he isn’t going anywhere.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. You look good in the uniform anyways.” Jisung’s still wearing the CJPD uniform, although it is more rumpled than usual. There’s no denying that the dark red colour, stuffed shoulders, and black accents suit him - no matter how much Chan hates the CJPD.

Jisung looks up at him. “You think?” he asks, his eyes wide. Chan wonders why his eyelashes are so long.

“Of course,” he replies easily, “You look good in everything.”

Jisung scoffs. “You’ve only seen me in this uniform and the District 9 jumpsuit anyways. Let me tell you, that jumpsuit was not doing _anyone_ any favours.”

“I thought you looked good then, too.”

Jisung’s cheeks dust with pink, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Hold on,” Chan gently wrangles out of Jisung's grip.

He shrugs his jacket off, and puts it around Jisung’s shoulders. 

“Now you have other clothes," he says.

Jisung sifts his fingers through the fur on the hood in wonder, and then he snaps up to meet Chan's eyes.

“But this is yours! I can't take it.”

“Not anymore,” Chan replies, “We can go get you other clothes later. When the city’s actually functioning. I don’t mind lending you my clothes until then.”

“It’s _literally_ the day after we’ve overthrown the regime. I’m sure you have more important things to be doing, Mr. Leader of the Rebellion.”

Chan rolls his eyes, and he throws an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “Not really. Now that the rebellion’s over, I’m down for being a normal citizen again.”

“You? A normal citizen?" Jisungs scoffs, "Yeah, right. You could _never_ , Bang Chan. You’ve just got this… _urge_ to help people.”

“I can still help people while being a normal citizen. Maybe I'll volunteer with repairs or something. And... what are you going to do?”

Jisung bites his lip. “I think I’m going to continue with the Police Department.”

Chan tilts his head. He's a little surprised, honestly - he had thought Jisung would want to drop his job and join university or something. It's what he deserved after everything he'd been through - to just be a normal teenager for once.

“I think the city deserves a police force that actually cares about protecting it instead of protecting the regime,” Jisung continues, “So. I guess we’ll be working on that.”

Chan chuckles, “And you said _I_ had the urge to help people."

“Shut up,” Jisung says. He turns to face Chan completely, “Hey, I have something to tell you.”

Chan looks back at him. “Yes?” They're so close. Chan doesn't even remember the last time he'd been this close to someone of his own will.

Jisung shrugs Chan’s arm off his shoulder and slides his arms through the sleeves of the jacket. He looks down at the city and squeezes his eyes shut, clasping his hands together on his lap like he's praying.

And then he sighs a little, letting some of the tension in his slumped shoulders dissipate before he looks at Chan again.

“I like you.”

The city is silent, like it’s holding its breath for Chan’s answer. The sun rises higher in the sky, and Jisung's dark eyes briefly glow brown as the sunrays dance across them.

Chan gently pulls one of Jisung's hands away. His hands are soft. Chan gently runs a thumb across his knuckles and then intertwines their fingers. Jisung's still staring at him, eyes shining with wonder and hope, and Chan can't help but smile again.

“I like you, too.”


End file.
